Somehow, the vessel from Sularia that the crew of the Misery’s End had planned on plundering had learned of their impending attack, sailing armed with an unexpected crew of mercenaries. While the Misery’s End crew was well versed in plundering and raiding, it was generally rather well thought out and orchestrated. The mercenaries threw a wrench into the works, which resulted in things not going according to plan. Several of the crew ended up being captured by the mercenaries hired by the vessel, Raleigh included in those numbers.
Fear had stricken her almost immediately - and fear was not an emotion felt often by the quartermaster. Here she was, roles flipped from where they normally were, and being carted off to a prison where she would be locked up with the men she held rank over - men who were not generally happy about the fact that a woman held a higher rank than they. This worried her more than the general fact of being captured.
Raines, her captain, was not among the number that had been captured when they were tossed into a few cells. This meant one of two things - either her captain had been slain during the battle, which was a thought that upset Raleigh a rather large amount; or, Raines had managed to escape without being taken. A large amount of the crew was absent from the prison, for whom Raleigh surmised the same as her captain - though the thought of many of the crewmembers dying was not nearly as upsetting to her as the thought of her captain.
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Three weeks had gone by, three weeks of pure torture for the quartermaster. Most of the other crewmembers were fairing quite well - dirty and ragged, of course, but hanging in there. Two had perished - one of starvation, one during a fight that had erupted during one of the sparse mealtimes they had received. Raleigh Redhall, however, was not fairing nearly as well as the rest of the crew. She sat in a corner of the cell, knees drawn to her chest. Her clothing was torn in multiple places, cuts and wounds covering the exposed skin. A layer of dirt covered most of her skin as well, and her blonde hair was ratted with dirt. One eye was blackened, and it was clear that many of the men had taken out their frustrations on her.
Though her body was broken, so to speak, her spirit was not. Cattingham, one of her fellow crewmen, stood over her, sneering down at her. ”Been thinkin’, might be time fer us to ‘ave a bit o’ fun with ye soon,” he hissed, to which Raleigh replied by connecting her bare foot with the space between his leg. Cattingham let out a bellow, falling to his knees. The others, who seemed to have been watching him as if to decide whether or not this endeavor was something worth perusing, turned away, going back to pretending the wretched girl was not there.
Raleigh, never having been one to give up, resigned to leaning back against the stone wall of the cell, closing her eyes - praying for either death to come swiftly so she could be rid of her wretched crewmates - or perhaps for the remaining men of their crew - even Raines, their captain - to find them and spring them free from the confines of the jail.